


sometimes the truth can be hidden

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: fullmoon_ficlet, M/M, Mates, Past Brett Talbot/Mason Hewitt, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett’s known since they were twelve, but he won’t tell Liam the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes the truth can be hidden

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for prompt #131 (Conceal) at fullmoon_ficlet. I saw the prompt and I really wanted to dive into my head canon for Brett, Liam, and Mason and do a quick future fic for them. Brett/Liam is such an OTP for me, but I really suspect that in canon it would be more likely to turn out like this. As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

The thing is, they were just kids at the time. Brett’s known since they were twelve, when Liam transferred into the seventh grade at Devenford Prep. He’s known since the first hour, when they sat in English together, and Brett inhaled, tasted the air around him. He’s known since they were on the lacrosse field, since they were first friends, then since they were enemies. He’s known since they’ve been allies, college roommates. He’s known, and he hasn’t said a word.

It’s been _ten years_ and he’s never said a word.

“Head’s up.” Liam picks a bottle from the cooler on the table and tosses it to Brett without looking. 

Everyone in the apartment is pack of some sort, so Brett picks it out of the air, ignoring the small hiss of breath Mason still gives when any of them do something too fast to be seen. He checks the label—his preferred kind, of course—then sets it down on the windowsill without opening it.

He doesn’t want to pretend to get drunk tonight.

Liam picks the spot right next to him, a red cup in one hand with whatever concoction Stiles has dreamed up this time. No pretending with that shit—Liam will be falling over after his second drink, Brett suspects. A quick glance around the room sees Malia talking too loudly, and Cora talking just as loud back at her, with wide gestures that almost smack into Lydia and Kira.

Definitely potent.

He reaches over, plucks the cup from Liam’s hand and takes a small gulp. “Fuck, it tastes like paint thinner.” Brett can’t help the way his face screws up tight at the taste, or the way Liam’s answering laugh twists painfully in his gut.

“You’ve drunk paint thinner,” Liam says with a small smirk, because he can hear the truth in Brett’s words.

“I’m a born werewolf. I’ve drunk and eaten a lot of things that humans couldn’t, just because I was a stupid kid at the time.” Brett shrugs one shoulder. “Ask Derek or Cora. I’m sure they’ve done equally dumb things.”

“I never drank paint thinner!” Cora yells out. “But Derek once drank motor oil because Laura dared him when they were teenagers. Didn’t kill him, but it wasn’t pleasant for any of us after, either. Do _not_ drink anti-freeze. That shit will kill you, healing or not.”

“See?”

Liam shakes his head. “I’m glad I wasn’t born this way.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes Brett wonder if he still regrets being bitten. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Your family _and_ the Hales died in fires,” Liam points out. “You were all absolute idiots when you were kids because you thought nothing could kill you. And I now understand fully why you were such an asshole on the field when we played lacrosse.”

“You didn’t have an excuse.”

“I have a disorder.”

Brett smirks as the entire pack choruses _IED_ , because it’s just never going to die. Not that, not Stiles’s ADHD, not any of the other things that make each member of the pack unique. He nudges Liam’s shoulder. “Tell the truth. You love being a werewolf.”

“I still have control issues sometimes, and if I ever meet a girl I want to keep, I’m going to have the most interesting and awful coming out talk with her ever.” Liam raises the cup, takes a long swallow and coughs. “Yeah, I love being a wolf.” His voice drops lower and he leans into Brett’s shoulder, letting Brett take his weight. “I love the pack, though. Can you believe they’re all here just to see us graduate?”

Brett can, because that’s what pack _does_. They were all there two years ago when Scott and Stiles and most of the pack finished college, and they’ll be there again when Isaac and Scott walk across the stage after veterinary school. They’ll fly wherever they need to in order to see Lydia accept world-famous awards, and they’ll follow their pack into family gatherings, christenings, birthdays, weddings.

It’s just what pack _does_.

Brett snorts softly, trying to keep it from getting to serious. “They’re here for me and Mason. They don’t want anything to do with you, explosion-man.”

“I just can’t believe we’re here.” Liam downs the rest of the cup, sets it aside. Brett can already smell the way it makes him more relaxed, at ease with himself. Liam gestures when he speaks. “Here, about to graduate. About to be _adults_. In this apartment. You and me. I _hated_ you.”

“We were friends, first,” Brett reminds him, because seventh and eighth grade were good. It was ninth grade when things fell apart for a while.

“Friends. Enemies.” Liam’s body is loose and easy, pressed against him, and Brett lifts and arm to tuck Liam close. Even after growth spurts, Brett’s still several inches taller than Liam, and probably always will be. It makes it easy to hold onto him like this.

Pack cuddles, that’s all it is.

“You always watched out for me,” Liam murmurs. “Made sure I didn’t get myself killed like an idiot. Talked me out of doing stupid things. Or into doing stupid things. Wouldn’t let me just avoid shit, either. You poked me. Prodded me. Made me a better person.”

“I thought all that was the job of your best friend. Mason.” Brett isn’t sure where Liam’s going with this, but he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be spilling out with the entire pack around them if he were sober. He makes a mental note to tell Stiles to dial back on whatever spiked the punch next time.

“I don’t think I have just one best friend.” Liam twists in his grip, manages to pat Brett’s stomach just above the belt. 

Brett breathes in, lets his mantra sift through his mind. _Three things cannot be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth_. But he’s been hiding the truth for a long time, and he needs to keep it where it is, carefully concealed. He ignores the way Scott glances over at them, the sharp look he gives.

“I don’t think Mason would be happy to know he’s been dethroned,” Brett says carefully.

Liam’s snort ripples through his body, his hand flat against Brett’s abs, warm through his shirt. “He _hasn’t_ been _dethroned_. He’s my best friend. Just, so are you. Have been for a long time.” Liam pulls back, looks at Brett, expression serious. “I love you, dude.”

There’s a twisted skip in Brett’s heart, and he grabs Liam’s head, ruffles his hair and tugs at him, starting a wrestling match that he lets Liam win. He can’t say the words back, won’t let the pack hear the way his heart sighs around them.

Besides, they’re wolves. Answering is as much of an answer as words is.

He eventually pushes Liam off, spilling him into the pile of girls, leaving him in a sprawl half across Malia and half in Cora’s lap, all smiles and sleepy flirtation. He grabs the bottle he set aside earlier and raises it, nodding at the door when Scott looks his way.

Brett hears footsteps following him, and he doesn’t need to look back to know it’s Mason sitting behind him on the front steps of the house. Music spills out from their upstairs flat, and even louder music from the downstairs apartment, shielding their conversation.

“So,” Mason says.

Brett takes a long swallow of his drink, liking the taste of it and knowing he won’t feel a thing from the alcohol. “I don’t like whatever it is that Stiles made this time. Liam’s a maudlin drunk on it.”

“Right, I’ll tell Stiles to inject some happy juice into his next brew,” Mason says dryly. “Or you could try just telling Liam the truth rather than getting all tight-lipped about it.” He spreads his hands when Brett looks back. “I pay attention, Brett. I read the lore, I helped Lydia and Stiles create our own version of the bestiary. I know the differences between born and bitten wolves and most of the people in that room have no idea what’s going on. Scott knows there’s _something_ , but he hasn’t lived in an apartment with the two of you for the last there years and gotten to see it all up close and personal.” Mason rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “So, when are you going to tell Liam?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It doesn’t matter that Brett’s heart is hammering as hard as if he’d been running for hours. It doesn’t matter that his scent is anxious and upset, that his wolf is whining under his skin. Mason can’t read him like another wolf.

Mason smiles slightly. “Fine. I’ll present the evidence. One: Liam’s right, you protect him. When he was first changed, you made sure he was okay on the lacrosse field, even though you were an opposing player. You didn’t baby him, but you checked on him. Two: when Liam couldn’t control his shift, the Hale mantra didn’t do anything for him, but for some reason, Satomi’s Buddhist words helped him find an anchor. How much irony is that, Brett, that you’re his anchor and you won’t even help him out by telling him?”

“I’m not his anchor,” Brett says, but Mason holds up a hand in front of his face.

“I’m not done.” Mason drops his hand, watches him. “Three: you don’t date. You hook up, but you don’t _date_ and you don’t get _involved_. Even what we did, back in high school, was basically friends with benefits, and there were times when I swore you were doing it so Liam would know you’re into guys as well as girls. Four: born wolves have mates. Someone is out there for every born wolf, someone who is a part of their scent, a part of what they _know_ intrinsically under their skin. Bitten wolves don’t have this. They don’t even know it exists, because they don’t need to know. Not every born wolf meets their mate, but when they do, they _know_.”

Brett’s jaw is tight, the muscle twitching. “There is nothing Liam needs to know, and no point in saying anything.”

“Except for the part where you’re miserable,” Mason tells him. “Doesn’t that count for something? I know what it’s like to pine for someone, and this has to be worse.”

Brett inhales roughly, lets it out slow and easy. He’s never talked to anyone about this other than Satomi, and as a bitten werewolf, she didn’t really understand, she just knew the lore to give to him so he could make his own decisions. It’s not easy to just find the words and try to make them make sense to a human. “It’s not worse,” he says quietly. “We’re pack. We’ve been living together, he’s there in my life, and because we’re wolves, we’re physical. He’s always going to be in my life, and he feels the pull, too. He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows he needs to be near me, and that’s fine, because it’s never going to be more than that. I’m into guys as well as girls. Liam’s not. And someday he might fall in love, or maybe we’ll just be roommates forever and he’ll keep having his flings. But it’ll work out. If I say something, he’ll get awkward. He’ll fight—because that’s what Liam does—and we won’t be able to have what we have now. And I need this. I need _this_ , and I’m not going to risk losing it because Liam’s freaking out over something.”

“Three things cannot be hidden,” Mason says softly, and Brett replies without thinking.

“The sun, the moon, and the truth.” He shrugs, expression rueful. “The truth is right there in the bottom of his cup. We’re friends, and he loves me. And I love him. He doesn’t need to know more than that.”

“Your life is still fucking intense.” Mason shakes his head. “I don’t think I could do it.” He pats Brett’s shoulder, leans on him as he gets up. “If I can help you out in any way, offer a hand when you need it.”

Brett grips his hand, pulls himself to his feet. “You’ve got decent hands.” He smirks when Mason ducks his head before laughing, remembering that high school really wasn’t a bad time for a distraction. “But you deserve better than this.” 

“Brett! Mason!” Liam’s voice echoes from the inside, shouted down the stairs. “Malia said we can do body shots! Come back up!”

“I swear sometimes he’s still sixteen,” Mason mutters, and Brett laughs. He motions for Mason to go ahead, following them up to join Liam and be dragged back into the party.

Brett’s content with things as they are, Liam pressed to his side as they watch Stiles carefully pour the liquor into shot glasses arrayed across Malia’s taut skin. When the liquid dribbles out, Liam leans in to lick it from her skin, grinning as she whines.

It’s not perfect, but it’s workable. Maybe someday the truth will come out, but it doesn’t have to yet. For now, things can go on as they are. Brett will make sure it works out.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http:/tryslora.tumblr.com).


End file.
